


The Best Birthday Gift

by AlwaysJohn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Becoming more, Early Days, Friendship/Love, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 18:15:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysJohn/pseuds/AlwaysJohn
Summary: Discovering someone loves you is the best birthday gift.





	The Best Birthday Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Pat. 
> 
> Wishing you a lovely day. My thoughts will be of you all day.
> 
> Linda  
"AlwaysJohn"

“Good morning, dear. I’ve brought your favorite scones. Happy birthday, John.”

John snatched one of the delicacies, stuffing it in his mouth. “With strawberry jam.” “Mrs Hudson, you are a saint.”

She hugged him firmly. “Oh, go on, you.”

“Tea?”

“No, dear, I’m off to the shops in a bit.” She glanced at the empty sitting room. “Where is Sherlock?”

“He went off in a tear about an hour ago. Said he had an errand to take care of.”

“Oh, that’s nice, dear. Well, I’ll be off. Enjoy your scones.”

“I will, thank you again. I’ll be sure to share them with Sherlock.”

“All right, dear.”

John’s mouth quirked with fondness for the dear woman as she descended the stairs.

“Well played, Mr Consulting Detective, you avoided helping with the washing up...again.”

Shaking his head and huffing a sigh that was only fondly annoyed, John finished his task in minutes and retreated to the loo to brush his teeth and other getting ready for the day things. 

When John returned to the sitting room, he was still the only one in the flat. The air in the room grew suddenly close, an about to happen sensation that tethered him to only one man.

He started when his phone vibrated on the desk, followed by both his and Sherlock’s laptops emitting a screeching sound that only Sherlock could create. John’s heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. Sherlock.

Swiping his phone from the desk, he read VATICAN CAMEOS and immediately activated the GPS to locate Sherlock. 

When the location popped up on both laptops as well, he saw that Sherlock was just two streets away. Transferring his Sig from its box to his waistband at the small of his back, John pulled on his jacket and raced down the stairs, all thoughts of a lovely, quiet and safe birthday gone from his mind.

The door slammed shut behind him as he hit the pavement at a dead run, his heart already hammering in his chest. He estimated less than three minutes to arrive at the destination noted on his phone, but it felt like an eternity. 

“Let me come through, please.”

John pushed his way through the small gathering of people to see a less than lucid Sherlock curled in on himself against the building. When hands on his shoulders held him back, John shrugged them off.

“I’m a doctor and he’s my friend,” he announced in a bugger off tone. The two men standing over Sherlock fell back to allow John access. He dropped to his knees, shielding his flatmate from curious eyes as best he could.

“I’m here, Sherlock.”

“Jo..un?”

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. Are you hurt?”

“Fine.”

“Look at me.”

“Em fine.”

John pressed their foreheads together. “Look at me, you ridiculous man.”

Sherlock squinted up at him.”

“You have a contusion on your temple. Did you hit your head?”

“Yes..no..maybe. I’m fine, John.” 

“I’m not dense, Sherlock. I’m a doctor and I know you. You won’t look at me, so I know when you’re fibbing. 

John lifted Sherlock’s head with a finger beneath his chin. “What happened? And why do you have a women’s purse strap wrapped around your arm?”

On the periphery, as he performed a brief concussion protocol and to his relief found Sherlock’s pupils equal and reactive, John registered the arrival of a car, followed by hurried footsteps. When the familiar voice of NSY authority cut through the commotion, he returned his full attention to his patient.

“All right, then, off you go. Nothing more to see here,” Greg called out, clearing the area.

“Sherlock, can you move your fingers and toes?”

“John? Oh? I need to get to the shop,” Sherlock whispered, trying to get up. John needed only to press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

“You aren’t going anywhere but home and into bed.”

“But..”

A shadow fell over them, startling them both.

“Greg? What are you doing here?”

Sherlock’s unsteady voice was not lost on John, nor was the sudden confused expression.

Greg dropped a firm hand to Sherlock’s shoulder while John continued his triage. “It would seem that someone placed an emergency alarm on my phone and you activated it. You can explain the Vatican Cameos reference another day.”

“John might need backup one day.”

John patted his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Sherlock.”

At the sight of a blush to Sherlock’s cheek, John let a tiny smile lift the corner of his mouth. When he shot a sidelong glance at Greg, the man grinned back. 

“My purse, you have my purse,” the apparent owner of the rescued purse squealed as she approached them.

The woman’s excited voice answered John’s earlier query about that had happened. Greg rose to his feet to talk to her, easing the purse from Sherlock’s as he did so. 

When they were alone, Sherlock leaned forward to rest his face against John’s shoulder. “I..John..I want to go home.”

“Right, do you think you can walk? Or should I get a cab?”

“Will you hold my hand?”

John narrowed his eyes as the request, placing an affectionate pat to his cheek. “Of course.”

Once upright, what scant color tinted Sherlock’s cheeks washed away to gray. John pushed him back against the brick with a firm hand to his chest. Vertigo.

“Give yourself a moment, love. It will pass.” 

Offering a two-fingered salute to Greg, John held Sherlock’s hand as promised as they slowly walked toward home.

**

“So, you rescued a woman’s purse from a thief and got whacked in the head for your valiant effort?”

Tucked into bed and resting comfortably, Sherlock averted John’s gaze and remained silent. 

John sat on the edge of the bed. “Sherlock? What’s wrong? I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

Sherlock stared at John’s hand resting against his wrist for several moments before finally meeting John’s gaze. At the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, John covered Sherlock’s long fingers with his own.

“Are you in pain?”

Sherlock shook his head, sniffed softly. “It’s your birthday.”

John sat up “Yes, and?”

Sherlock huffed his annoyance before going on. “I was on my way to a specialty shop to purchase your gift, but-” He waved his free hand in the air between them, his obvious frustration very clear, ”all this happened.”

“Sherlock,” John began, pausing to gather his thoughts, “I appreciate that you want to give me a gift on my birthday, but it’s just another day. My family didn’t celebrate much.”

“No, John, it’s not just another day. It’s the day your were born. It’s a very special day. You are my friend and I’ve only got you, so it is a very special day.”

John surged forward to kiss Sherlock’s forehead. When he pulled back, he was pleased to see the pink in his cheeks. He was certain his own were as well.

“Sherlock, every day with you is a gift. You scared the shit out of me today and I am so thankful that you are okay. That’s more than enough of a gift for any birthday.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“John?”

“Yes?”

“If you are finished with your doctorly things, may I hug you in lieu of the birthday gift that I promise I will purchase tomorrow?”

John’s heart skipped several beats, finally settling on elevated racing. “Of course.”

It was awkward at first, holding each other, awkward but nice. Not given to overt displays of affection himself, he finally admitted to himself that he’d grown to love his flatmate. If he were honest, considering the way his heart thumped in his chest at that moment, he sometimes felt what they shared was a bit more than love for a friend. John often wondered if Sherlock felt the same. The way he clung to him at that moment gave him hope. When he tried to gently pull away, Sherlock tightened his arms.

“Sherlock?” John whispered as he struggled to control the flicker of hope he’d kept hidden inside his heart for so long.

“Yes, John?”

“Best birthday gift.”

“Don’t ever leave.”

John let out his breath in a rush. He wasn’t sure where that’d come from, but he tucked it away as another gift. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” John thought long and hard before taking the chance, asking the question. “Sherlock? How long?”

Sherlock chuckled. “When you offered your phone. You?” 

“When I offered my phone to you.”

“John?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we could be more?”

“More? Oh, more than flatmates?” John pulled back just as a single tear escaped the silver eyes blown wide. Sherlock had obviously surprised himself. John saw it plain as day. 

“Oh. No. Never-”

John pressed his mouth to Sherlock’s to block what was sure to be a desperate attempt to backtrack, to not upset the status quo. Sherlock wasn’t the only one who could deduce his flatmate. After all, John had learned from the best. 

“I’ve always hoped we could.”

Sherlock reached out for him, took him in his arms and kissed him into oblivion


End file.
